


Of Bikes and Sweet Potato Slices

by Bubbly88Tay



Category: The Resident (2018)
Genre: Angst, Bad Mornings, Car Accident, Gen, Hidden Injuries, I just wanted this show to have fanfiction, More tags when I see fit, Sometimes Doctors Make Bad Decisions, Whump, it needs more love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-03-25 12:37:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13834434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubbly88Tay/pseuds/Bubbly88Tay
Summary: Sometimes, a bad morning is just a warning of things to come.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> EDITED: Hi all! Due to me taking forever to update and finish this fic, I have updated and edited chapter one to fit the Conrad the show has given us more details for. So if you're coming back to read this, make sure to reread chapter one! Thank you for all of your patience.
> 
> This is a response to one of the prompts for the Monthly Whump Challenge. 'A hidden injury that the whumpee tries to tell someone about, but passes out while whispering the caretakers name.' (AKA Option 2)
> 
> Once again I have waited until the very last minute to post this, however, I am really excited about this one. 
> 
> So as of me posting this, this story is only half finished and a quarter of the way through being beta'd (by the amazing Marie. (If I can figure how to tag someone in these notes, I will come back and change this.) That being said, I doubt anyone will be reading this as this is the first I have seen for fanfiction in this fandom (on Ao3) (if you can prove me wrong, feel free to send me links!) This will be a continued work in progress of course (I don't think it will be more than 2 chapters to be honest...
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this piece of fiction and if you are reading, welcome, and I can't wait to hear what you think!
> 
> Enjoy.

 

It had been raining all morning, which wasn’t an unusual thing for Atlanta in the spring.  Maybe that should have been the first sign that he should have called Nic for a ride, but of course, Conrad Hawkins had ridden marathon lengths in pouring rain. It wasn’t like this was anything new. That, and Nic had made it very clear after their last shift that she wanted nothing more than to go home and to sleep as long as possible before their next shift. 

Recently, they had been spending most of their nights together. Last night though, Nic had left before he had and she had to be back earlier in the morning. Conrad needed clothes so he biked to his apartment and realized he was too tired to bike to Nic’s. He didn’t want to wake her if she was already asleep like she had promised she would be. So he fell asleep in his own bed, missing the warm presence that’d be at his side otherwise.

In the end, Conrad decided that today, the rain would be his friend. 

His second clue that maybe he should have called Nic was his toaster throwing a fit while he readied himself for his shift. He had been able to smell the burnt zucchini while still brushing his teeth, and had rolled his eyes. Conrad had been using the same toaster for at least two years. In that entire time, he had never changed the settings on it. His kabobs and other fancy little meals he could make in the marvelous creation had never needed different settings. And now, it had turned on him. 

Walking out into his little apartments living room and being able to see smoke in the air made him a little more upset than he would ever care to admit. The fact that it was over sliced zucchini was not something he would even admit to himself. 

Conrad forced the burnt vegetables out of the toaster and unplugged the machine, resigned to the fact that he would be eating a few uncooked fruit and vegetables. He roamed through the fridge looking for alternatives. His eyes landing on an apple and some carrots that he doesn’t remember buying. 

Grabbing the food, Conrad immediately placed them back on the counter as he turned back to the toaster. He carried the machine carefully over to the sink and poured the remainder of the burnt food back into the water basin. Wincing at the way the chunks of charcoal dissipated in the air before they even hit the steel of the sink. He shook his head in disappointment as he tapped the machine against the edge of the sink, hoping to knock whatever else was in there, out. Pleased with his work, he peered into the toaster and was vexed to see how the inside was completely burnt. Placing the toaster back onto the counter, he decided he was going to have to go shopping for a new one before he cooked anymore veggie slices. Or the occasional kabobs. 

Or anything. 

The sound of his phone ringing dragged him from his thoughts and he groaned as he trudged back to his room to gather his personal items. Picking up the phone with a sigh, he answered it, recognizing the caller ID as his building tennant. “Mr. Harris, how can I help you?”

“Hey Conrad, I got a couple complaints from your neighbors about the smell of smoke coming from your general direction, just making sure no one is on fire currently.” Conrad rubbed his temples, hoping the action would miraculously resolve the emerging pounding in his head.

“No sir, not on fire.” He considered cracking a few windows to try and let the smell drift out. “Just burnt my breakfast is all.” 

“Alright, in that case, just be more careful next time. Have a good one.”

“Yes sir, you too.” 

Conrad pulled the phone from his ear and ended the call. Sliding it into his pocket, he grabbed his backpack and walked to the two windows, cracking them while looking out at the street. A cacophony of noises assaulted him all at once, one of the joys of living within the city, and he soaked it all in. He could smell the rain in the air and inhaled deeply. 

He glanced down at his watch and jumped into action, running a little behind as it was. He paced out of the room and grabbed his helmet from the table sitting in the middle of the room. He threw his hands through the straps and grabbed the handlebars of his bike. 

The bike itself was a thing of beauty. It had been a gift from somebody who had come and gone in his life. A hand-me-down of a buddy, Jonah, who had passed away overseas. In the end, Jonah’s mother had given it away to him.  A little bit of maintenance had been needed. A new chain, a new seat, two new wheels, and he’d replaced the brakes at  _ least  _ twice now. Conrad had painted it along the way, and now here it was. His primary form of transportation and more beautiful than ever. 

Conrad maneuvered the bike out his front door and leaned it against the hallway wall, sliding the helmet straps over the handlebar. Locking his door, his set of keys fell from his hand and landed under him on the floor. He muttered a quick curse as he bent over reaching for the keys. A few things fell from his bag before he realized what was happening. Straightening up quickly, he hit his head on the door knob sharply. Hissing, he reached out for something to grab with his right hand and clutched his head with his left. His right hand slammed into his bicycle and knocked it unsteady and it went crashing to the floor. 

Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the door and groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Looking down, he grabbed his keys, which had somehow eluded his grasp, and scooped up his ID badge, wallet, and a couple of pens that had escaped his bag. This time when he straightened up, he was much slower and more cautious. Swinging his bag around to his front, Conrad threw the articles back into the bag and ensured he actually zipped it up, and then swung it back around. Shouldering both straps, he righted his bike and headed for the stairs. The new bump on his head should have been his third warning. 

Conrad made his way down to the lobby and sat staring out at the traffic and water puddles from underneath the awning of his apartment. He regretted leaving both of his rain jackets in his locker, and also regretted wasting water on a shower. He obviously would be soaked before he made it three minutes down the road; six miles down and he would be his own damn rain cloud.

On the brightside, he wouldn’t have to worry about avoiding pedestrians. 

He threw his helmet on his head and straddled his bike. He knew that the sooner he got started the sooner he would have finished, he pushed off. Conrad had been biking this route since he had began renting the apartment, so he had his route pretty downpact. He knew that he would average about 15 miles per hour when he wasn’t pushing it. Which would have put him at the hospital in about 24 minutes. Given that it had been raining had been a couple of variables. The roads were wet but he didn’t want to be in the rain for any extended period of time. 

Deciding on something in between his faster, 20 miles per hour speed and his slower 15, Conrad set his pace. 

He didn’t like to listen to music while riding, because he knew that if he missed a single horn honking in traffic, he could be flattened. Instead Conrad would spend a lot of time in his thoughts. 

Today they were ranging from how he had seen an episode of Mythbusters that proved that the faster you go in rain, the wetter you would end up, to how good toasted zucchini slices would have tasted right around then. His mind was on the second of the two when he had suddenly realized that he had left his apple and carrots on the counter. He had already been more than halfway into his ride at that point and resigned to the fact that the vending machine will have to do.

In the middle of deciding which vending machine he would check first, he watched as the person he had been riding behind in that moment suddenly hit the brakes. Conrads face illuminated red as he quickly swerved out into the further, left lane of traffic to avoid being in the middle of a large, metal sandwich. 

Noticing the car that he had pulled out behind was also heavy on the brakes, Conrad tapped his own brakes, knowing that weaving in and out of traffic was a disaster waiting to happen. He didn’t slow much, just to match the speed of the cars around him. Hearing the unmistakable sound of rubber sliding across wet pavement and the sounds of old brakes filling the air around him, Conrad risked a look behind him, his options limited on where he could go in that moment. He was only able to catch the headlights sliding closer to him, before the front bumper of the pickup truck caught the top of his back tire, bringing the bike to a sudden halt. 

Had he had a few extra seconds of preparation, he would have given himself time to jump from the bike, preferring his odds of that to having no control and flying over the handlebars of his own bike. He was a solid one and a half feet off the ground when he finally hit something--the hitch of the car in front of him. Why an itty bitty car like that needed a hitch, Conrad wasn’t sure, but he could feel the exact moment when he slammed his abdomen against the hitch. 

It was a sharp, biting pain that encompassed him. Every single nerve in his body was screaming at him for relief. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t feel like a knife was being shoved under his skin, and his entire abdomen was in agony. He could feel the bruise forming with every breath he took. 

He blinked and he was looking up at the sky, rain dripping onto his face. 

He blinked again and there was a face directly over his, eyes wide in horror and mouth moving rapidly, too fast for Conrad to latch onto any single word. The face above him was young, a kid. The boy couldn’t have been a day over 20, and he looked terrified. 

“-ok?” Conrad blinked a few more times, his head pounding in time to the blood rushing through his veins. 

“Yea, I’m ok. Are you?” Conrad asked, slowly and gingerly testing his limbs, quickly put painfully deducing that none of his limbs were straight up broken. 

“Dude, I just hit you with my truck, I’m fine.” The kid was panicking, his breathing rapid, the words spilling from his mouth uncoordinated. 

Conrad tried for a smirk, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been a grimace instead. “Technically you hit my bike, but it’s not your fault.” Conrad jerked as he realized suddenly that he was still lying in the middle of the road, a small group of people circling him. “Where’s my bike?”

“Uh,” The kid disappeared from Conrad’s view, and he used those moments to reach for some of the prominently painful spots on his body. His abdomen was clearly hurting, but he didn’t think it was too bad. He left it alone for the time being. He reached for his head and grimaced as his skin stretched on his arms. He looked down at his extremities and hissed. There was definitely some degree of road rash on the outer edges of the unprotected limbs, his sleeves were torn open, but he couldn’t see the worst of it, so he ignored them for the time being. His ribs were screaming at him, and he figured that a few of them might be broken.

He moved on to his head as the kid appeared in his vision again. He could feel deep scratches on his chin where he must have hit the ground. “Your bikes under my truck, it looks mostly ok but I’ll pay for any damages. Do you want me to call 911? Get you an ambulance?”

Conrad denied the idea with a hand on the kids wrist and a very subtle shake of his head. “Don’t worry about it, I’m a doctor-” the kids face blanched, “-help me up?”

The kid shook his own head subtly. “Are you sure that's a good idea?”

“Did you hear me? I’m a doctor, we got this.” Conrad smirked again, this time it was a little bit easier now that some of the initial pain was dissipating. He held up his other arm to allow the kid to grip it, and allowed the kid to carefully leverage him into a sitting position. 

Moving hurt. A lot. 

By the time he was seated, his legs stretched out in front of him, he was biting into his lip to keep from crying out. He could sense the kids eyes on him so he opened eyes he didn’t realize he had closed. “You good sir?”

“Yea I got it.” Conrad sat for a few seconds. The pain was slowly spreading into his entire being, his abdomen dulling mildly as opposed to the pain that had previously been overpowering and breathtaking.

He looked towards the kids truck and could see his bike up underneath it. He couldn’t see it that well, but he wasn’t sure he was really up for getting back up on it and riding away. 

He looked to the kid who was still staring at him anxiously. Conrad could see his heart pounding quickly in the veins of his neck. “Tell you what, think you can throw my bike in the back of your truck there and drive me to the hospital?”

The kid was enthusiastically nodding his head before Conrad even finished his statement and Conrad felt a sense of relief flood his veins. He wasn’t even sure how well standing up was going to go. Biking the rest of the way was definitely not an option, even if the bike wasn’t destroyed.

The crowd was thinning now. Conrad was seated between the two vehicles that he had been caught in between before, just closer together then they had been last time he had checked his surroundings. He reached down and pulled his shirt up, trying to get a good look at his front. He wasn’t surprised to see the warped shape of the hitch already bruising on his front, but it didn’t look too deep. He attempted a deep breath before he began to probe a bit. It didn’t feel too tender, but he also wasn’t really wanting to press too hard. ‘ _ Hurts like a bitch.’ _

The kid was ready to go, standing in front of him with his arms outstretched. As someone who had helped many people up off of floors, people who could use a little extra support, Conrad knew that maybe offering more than a hand in this situation might have been helpful. Perhaps supporting him while he helped him stand up? He doubted the kid was open for constructive criticism right now though. Instead he decided against saying anything. The kids help, while technically warranted, was more than he would have felt comfortable with had he felt any better than he had right then. 

Conrad pulled his legs up to his chest, gingerly. The fire in his abdomen reigniting slowly with the little movements. Allowing the kid to grab his wrists, he slowly made his way to his feet. Using the vehicle beside him for support helped for stability, but his entire front was throbbing viciously beneath him. As he got his feet under him, his vision whited out around the edges, and he could feel himself swaying. 

“You ok?” 

Conrad regained his bearings and chalked it up having just had his bell rung pretty significantly. “Yea, must’a hit my head on something. I’ll have a colleague check it out.” 

He’d probably pull Devon aside and have him pull the gravel out of his arms and clean any of his wounds. 

Conrad was grateful for the rain again, as it felt cool against his throbbing body. He relished in it as the kid carefully led him to the passenger side of the truck. When Conrad was in reaching distance of the truck, he reached out and grabbed on to it. 

“Go ahead and get the bike,” he offered once he decided he could carry his own weight. “I’ll make it to the truck alright on my own.” The kid offered no arguments as he walked around to the other side of the truck and ducked down, disappearing behind the truck. Conrad made the rest of the journey and found that walking was slowly getting easier, the lightheadedness slowly dissipating. 

He got himself situated in the truck, and the kid followed shortly thereafter, his bike having been thrown into the back with a clatter of metal against metal. 

The kid tried to talk to him a bit, but Conrad ignored him for the most part. Instead glancing at the dash clock and realizing how late he was running behind now. Then he settled in for the short drive to the hospital.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE - First chapter reposted with a substantial amount of edits, it's recommended your reread that before you continue on! 
> 
> A/N - You know how they say 'it takes a village?' Well this one did. This one has taken me a little less than a year to write, and at the end of the day, this is a piece that I am very proud of. So thank you to my close friends fyeahvulnerablemen (Jo, who sat down and edited all 27 pages in one go) and the-wandering-whumper (Marie, who helped me when this idea first sprung itself from my brain) on Tumblr who took so much time to help me edit and polish this piece. A true friend truly helps to polish the diamond of its coal. I appreciate everyone who I spent time irritating as I grew frustrated or overly proud of this little monster.  
> And thank you to all of you out there who never stopped supporting me. I hope I continue to improve because it's all for those of you who stick by my side.  
> Standard Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I certainly don't own it.

“Chastain, right?” The kid asked, pulling into the driveway for the ER. The question startled Conrad from his thoughts. He looked at his place of work and smiled around the pain.

“I'd sure hope so, otherwise we’re at the wrong place.” Conrad turned his head toward the kid, slowly. His entire body sore after the accident.

The younger man blushed as he turned back to road. “No, you're right, I should have asked.”

“Nothing to be sorry about-” The truck cab jostled and Conrad bit back a groan. The kids face grew more red still.

“Nothing to be sorry about? Dude, I hit you with my truck!” Conrad got his breathing and pain back under control, squeezing his hands together tightly. His fingernails biting into the skin.

“You hit my bike. Technically I hit the other car. So _technically_ I'm at fault here too. So please stop telling me you're sorry and pull up to the bike rack over there. I'm late for work.” Conrad's cheeky grin popped back onto his face and the kid smiled in relief at him.

He did as Conrad said and jumped from the truck as it slid to a stop. He disappeared from Conrad's sight as the kid threw open the door. Conrad hung from his own open door, slowly extricating himself from the truck cab. He slammed the door shut and walked over to where the kid was standing next to the bike.

It didn't look too bad. The rear wheel was definitely going to need to be replaced, and possibly a new paint job. All things considered, it could have been worse. It _should_ have been worse.

“I'll pay for damages, I'm just so sorry.” Conrad looked from his bike to the kid.

“I'll be able to fix it, its fine. Just try not to hit anymore bikers?” The kid looked bashful as he looked back at his truck.

“I'll probably get a new set of tires, I've been putting it off for too long.” Conrad nodded carefully, gingerly taking his helmet off, letting it hang in his hands.

“No kidding, those things sound like shit. It was nice meeting you, kid.” Conrad called, turning away from the boy and running a hand through his drenched hair, the rain still streaming down his face in rivulets.

Conrad was figuring he could probably have one of the nurses or even Devon help pull the gravel from his arm and make sure his chin didn't need stitches or anything. Maybe make sure he didn't have a concussion, since turning away from the kid and standing up almost had him falling down again, the blood rushing from his head.

Making it under the awning of the ER entrance, Conrad didn't even shake himself off, his body protesting most movements at that point. Instead, he sulked into the entrance and was immediately met by the stares of his colleagues. A particularly kind nurse, Jodie, rushed towards him holding out her hands in a motion to get Conrad to stop moving. He shot her a crooked grin, laced with bits of pain.

“Doctor Hawkins, what on Earth happened to you?” He held his arms up to her, allowing her to see the wounds in his arms.

“I slipped and got thrown off my bike. I'm going to go change, can you page Pravesh and tell him to meet me up in the lounge?” He asked her, dropping his arms carefully to his side, his right arm unknowingly curling around his midsection and the growing bruise.

She nodded and shot him a dubious look before walking off, and Conrad began his long walk towards the doctors lounge. It certainly took him longer than he would have cared to admit, the pain in his abdomen flaring with every step he would take. Multiple times he leaned against the wall for support as he continued his walk. It was only when he had made it to the doorway of the lounge, did he begin to consider that _maybe_ something was wrong.

He dropped to one of the couches, pain flaring through his abdomen with a ferocity he was positive meant nothing good. He gripped the arm of the couch, sitting as still as possible, finding it impossible to try and lie down and ease the pain. Conrad clenched his eyes shut, attempting to ignore the nausea that seemed to be stirring.

He heard footsteps outside the door, and his prayers were answered as Devon’s voice rang throughout the room. Almost like music to Conrads ears. “Hey, I got paged to meet you here?” The accusatory tone that came from Devon would have normally been cause enough to pick fun at the doctor.

“Got somewhere better to be Pravesh?” Conrad tried to joke, pain continuing to throb and pulse from his abdomen as he slowly leaned back against the back of the couch, trying his best to play it off as nothing.

“Well, one of the technicians up in Radiology was admitted earlier because-” the younger man stopped as he sat down across from Conrad. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Ok, let me get this straight,’’ he said through clenched teeth, “it took me bleeding for you to shut up?”

“What happened?” Devon persisted, lowering his head to get a second glance at the wound on Conrad’s face.

“I fell.” Devon shot him a dubious look. “Off my bike.” Another, far more accusatory look that time. “After I got hit by a truck.”

Devons glance turned upwards to meet his eyes. “Are you serious?”

“As serious as a car accident.” If Conrad wasn’t in so much pain right then, he would have thoroughly been enjoying himself at the shock that was plastered across Devon’s face.

“You should be downstairs, getting yourself checked out!” Devon shouted, before creeping ever closer to Conrad to try and assess any further wounds.

“That’s why I had you paged.” Conrad sucked in a deep breath. Devon was now actively searching for anything wrong with his superior. His eyes met Conrad’s in a sharp glance.

“What’s wrong?” The man was clearly not finding this as funny as Conrad was, as the pain slowly seemed to become more and more visible. The edges of his vision seeming to slowly cloud. Almost like a physical manifestation of the pain.

“Everything, it’s,” the moan escaped before he could stop it, “it's getting bad.” Conrad sucked in a deep breath and he slammed his eyes shut suddenly, surely surprising the man in front of him further. It took everything in him to not curl his already aching knees up to his chest. As it was, he leaned forwards and into Devon's prodding hands. “Go get Nic.” He breathed through clenched teeth. The pain was awful, and he was past the point of trying to hide it or undermine it. He needed help, and that much was plainly evident.

“What, no, I’m not leaving-”

“Devon, go get Nic, now!” Conrad's eyes snapped open to stare Devon down, the whiteness seeming to diminish as Devon appeared to be trying to come up with the words to defy Conrad's orders. “Now Devon!”

The man stood quickly, Conrad’s shout having been more than enough to let the other man know that no matter how bad it was, Conrad was still in charge, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. Devon was pissed, even Conrad in his less than optimal state could tell that just by watching his back as he ran from the room. He didn’t care though. He didn’t have enough strength to care.

He didn’t even have enough strength to continue holding his own head up. He let it drop against his knees, as he slowly let himself try and hope the pain would dull, but no luck. Instead everything felt like it was slowly spiraling. Getting worse and worse with every breath he drew and then exhaled through gritted teeth. He clenched his arms across his chest, squished between his thighs and chest. He squeezed, hoping that maybe by some shred of luck, the pain would be alleviated by the pressure.

Conrad began to listen to the pain, try to figure out what was wrong. It wasn’t something he had done since the accident site and he figured now was a good time to reexamine his results. He couldn’t move, his body felt laden with metal. Suddenly it was ice running through his veins rather than blood. He shivered, and his body continued to scream at him. ‘ _You need help.’_ The cold, that was shock. He was bleeding, heavily from somewhere, because as traumatic as the accident could have been, it wouldn't have explained how he felt.

He started with his legs. His feet seemed fine as did his lower legs. His knees on the other hand were not being kind to him, but he wasn’t sure whether to chalk it up to past history or recent events. Also, they weren’t the source of the life threatening pain that was coursing through him now. He finished his legs and moved up to his upper body.

His abdomen felt like it was just a mass of pain. Which couldn’t have been good. ‘ _Could be worse though, huh, I could have forgotten my helmet.’_

He didn’t realize he had stopped his exam until he heard voices at the door and startled. His eyes flashed open as he suddenly realized that he might have just passed out. “Conrad?”

Nic’s voice _was_ music to his ears, as warm hands suddenly fluttered to his face, gentle but also urgent. He was suddenly staring up into Nic’s eyes. Her lips moving, and noises being made but nothing that Conrad could comprehend. “Abdomen-” he tried to form the words, but his brain doesn't seem to be working.

Her name fell from his lips on a breath as his eyes fluttered shut.

* * *

 

She had just walked out of a patient's room, promising that she'd get their discharge papers as soon as she had word from their doctor that they could leave. She didn't even have to glance at the chart to know that she was Conrad's patient. He'd been the one that had left such a good impression on the young, college aged kid. She was an artist who didn't realize that she had a family history of medical issues. One of which happened to be the diagnosis that saved her life. An experience like that seemed to be the epitome of Conrad's existence.

Nic glanced at her watch and pondered for a moment. In the three years that she's been working with Conrad, he's only been late once. Even then, he had managed to be the first responder to a car crash, and saved three people's lives that day. She walked towards the nurses desk, lying the tablet next to the computer and turned to Jessica. “Have you seen Conrad yet?”

“Haven't seen him. Is he late?” The plucky nurse asked curiously.

“He sure is, we should probably call the national guard.” Nic joked, leaning against the corner as she debated what she would do next. Go down to the ER, and try to find Conrad down there, or find a corner and call him. She's probably exaggerating, but she knows that with him, it never goes the way somebody would expect it to. “The patient in 303 wants to be discharged and -”

Nic's pager goes off from her pocket and she pauses as she pulls it out. She doesn't get the chance to read it as her name is yelled across the unit. She looks from the pager, only able to read who it's from, Devon, before looking up to see him running towards her. “Nic! I need your help,” he calls, ignoring all the stares as he runs.

He gets to her side and ushers her around the corner where it's quieter and with less spying eyes. “What's wrong?” She asks as she looks him over. “Is it Conrad?”

“Yea, he just came in, and he's in a lot of pain, but he won't go down to the ER. He's too damn stubborn.” Devon pants, before rubbing the crown of his nose.

“Where is he?” She feels stupid. She should have known that this was how it was going to go. It's Conrad for god's sake. She should have called him-

“Doctors lounge,”

She takes off, expecting Devon to follow as she leads towards the lounge. She shoots Jessica a look, and Jessica nods as she joins them. “I'll be right back, watch over the ward, page me if it's urgent.”

“Will do. Is everything alright?”

Nic shoots her another, worried look. “We'll see. I'll let you know.”

Jessica peels off and Nic and Devon set a quick pace and arrive at the lounge in under a minute. In that time, she gathers from Devon that he was in an accident, bike versus truck. All Devon knows is that he has a sizable gash on his chin that was bleeding, and some sort of injury that had the man keeled over.

Nic walks in first and her eyes immediately land on Conrad's hunched over form. His arms are hidden in between his curled body, and he's absolutely still. “Conrad?” She calls, as she closes in on him. He startled, but doesn't make any movements that suggest he's sitting up to greet her.

She places a hand under his shoulder, and Devon follows her lead, and together they sit him up, carefully. Devon searches for injuries as Nic concentrates on rousing Conrad. She only spends a moment looking into the half lidded eyes, before she puts both her hands on his cheeks. “Conrad, can you hear me?”

His eyes open a little more, but he doesn't say anything. He's trying, based off the way his lips are moving, but no sounds form. Devon must have pressed a sensitive spot, because Conrad's eyes slam shut and a wince crosses his features, and a short whine escapes his lips.

“Conrad, open your eyes, right now.” Nic demands as she looks down at Devon. He's staring and prodding intensely at a bruise that's wrapped itself around Conrad's abdomen. “He's bleeding internally.” She admonishes. Her heart beats heavily in her chest as she trusts Devon to get help. She turns her attention back to Conrad's slack face.

“Conrad, open your eyes!” She begs again. The harsh words pull him from his reverie and be opens his eyes and stares at Nic. She's losing him, his eyes are closing and his chest is heaving. She can feel his heart beating furiously under her fingertips, as his lips move and her name is whispered into the air.

“Devon!” She yells, praying he's close enough to understand the meaning in her tone.

She lays Conrad flat on the couch and props his legs up with a couple of pillows. She feels herself shutting out her emotions, even as his arm flops down over the side of the couch. Instead she begins her ministrations to the best of her ability.

It can't have been too long, less than thirty seconds, before a team of doctors and nurses join her. Stretcher included. No one wastes anytime, and Conrad is lifted up and onto the stretcher. They rush him to the ER, Devon leading the group. They all fit in the elevator and Nic can't help but look down at the man under her fingertips. He's pale, and sweaty. His left leg is bent under his right, and she resists the urge to ask someone to straighten his legs, that his knees get sore when they're bent like that.

Irving and Hundsley meet them as the doors to the elevator open and pounce on him. Hundsley cuts his shirt open before they even make it to an exam area. Irving is studying the wound on his abdomen before he turns to Nic, “You shouldn’t be here,” His words are soft, and comforting, but she can’t leave.

“I’m not leaving. Everybody in this damn hospital is in a conflict of interest.” She challenges, but everyone surrounding the injured doctor knows that Irving isn’t going to enforce anything. That and Nic’s right. They’re all family. Friends. Comrade in arms. This is personal to every single soul in this hospital.

So they work. It doesn’t take them long at all to figure what’s wrong. It's his spleen. A broken rib sliced the organ open and he’s been bleeding internally since it happened. It’s almost possible to see exactly where he collided with... Nic realizes that she still doesn’t completely understand what happened. She’s just gonna have to ask Conrad when he wakes up.

She doesn’t realize when she zoned out. She just stood guard near his head, a hand never leaving his cheek, as she watched everything that was happening around her, but not really understanding anything that was being said. Normally she would, but normally, she’s not running her hands through the patients hair. Normally she doesn’t want to grow old with them. Normally the patient isn’t the man that she loves.

It’s hectic around them. But between her face and his, they’re in a bubble. Time is slowed to a stop. She wants to talk to him, but now she can’t bring herself to say the words that she desperately wants him to hear.

Alarms begin to sound all around her, and it pulls her from her anxious thoughts. Conrads face is still slack, but now it seems so much worse. Like the presence of the alarms alone, makes his condition worse. She forgets that the alarms don’t cause the condition, they only serve to remind doctors of the condition.

Conrad’s crashing. That’s what she zones back into. His blood pressure is dropping far more rapidly than before. Irving, who has the portable MRI in his hands, calls out that Conrad’s splenic artery has ruptured.

Then his blood pressure tanks. He needs emergency surgery, and someone in the fray shouts for someone else to call upstairs to make sure an OR is prepped because they’re coming in hot. Conrad’s heart is beating too fast for his body to handle. His breathing is erratic as his chest hitches up and down.

Suddenly somebody is pulling her back and Nic wants nothing more than to hold on to him and not let him go, but she can’t move.

Nic thinks that this must be how Conrad feels. She can hardly breathe herself as they intubate him. Just as quickly, his breaths become steadier as somebody else begins to pump air into his chest for him. Another person is on top of him, doing compressions. The team of doctors and nurses that surround him can’t get him stabilized as Nic takes a good look at Devon. He’s sweating and his eyes are red as he shoves down on Conrads chest with such force that if his ribs weren’t previously broken, they are now. Breaking ribs just to try and correct a beat that’s no longer there. They don’t have time to try and stabilize him any longer. Conrad’s being pushed away from her, and someone's calling for the blood bank to have blood on standby.

But she still can’t move. She can’t breathe as a hand rests on her back and it takes everything in her not to melt into a puddle as he is pushed from her view. Her hands are shaking at her sides and her vision’s blurry, and she realizes that there are tears running down her face. All the noises and all of the smells of the emergency room rush to greet her as she raises a hand to her face and brushes her hair back. “I -” She wipes her cheeks of the tears half heartedly. “I need air.”

She leaves Jodie’s embrace as she makes her way to the doors that lead outside, and quickly. She gets out there and rushes for the trash can that waits just outside the doors, on the sidewalk. All the words that she wanted to say to him, all the words that she wants to say to him one day, all of them swirl in her head as she retches into the trash can.

As she pulls away, she realizes that she’s sobbing, and she tries to stop it, she really does, but she can’t as she falls back against the pillar that’s propping up the large awning of the emergency department. Her chest heaves as she slides down the pillar and sits. She pulls her knees to her chest and cries.

* * *

 

Devon walks back to the emergency room, dazed. He’s angry at himself. He should have known something was far more serious than what Conrad was alluding to. He should have known that the stubborn asshole of a man had sliced his spleen open and was bleeding out. He should have known, that less than ten minutes after Devon was checking out the mans chin wound, that he would be trying to keep the man's heart beating.

Devon should have _known_. He doesn’t know what to do now. He doesn’t know where he should go. Bell made it very clear that no one was to bother the doctors working on Conrad. Devon had nearly decked the man, he was so angry and distraught because it was his _friend_ that was behind those doors, fighting for his life. Devon realized how sad it was that the only victory he came away from the operating theater with, was that Randolph was not going to be the one that was operating on Conrad.

Devon can feel his own heart beating heavy in his chest, and his arms are leaden as he realized just how crucial he was to making sure that Conrad arrived in the operating room, mostly alive.

Devon wonders if they’re going to crack his chest. Conrad would hate that, he muses. He heads back towards the emergency department. Devon wants to find Nic, make sure she's alright, but he can only make it into the elevator, before he slides down the wall and he feels his breaths coming quickly.

He’s had people he’s close to die. Bradley was the most recent, and that was absolutely horrific. But with Conrad, it was different. It's different and unexpected and this can’t be happening? Why is this happening? What happened?

He realizes that he’s having a panic attack. He’s never had one before but he almost feels like he’s dying. Which is ironic because he is exactly not the one dying.

There's a hand on his shoulder, “Pravesh? You ok?”

He shakes his head, because he is definitely not ok. He hates that his mind can’t figure out what to do, how to stop the way he feels. How to take a deep breath. So he keeps struggling, and he keeps receding into his thoughts before his hands are pulled away from his eyes and Irving is pulling him into his arms. Clutching him tight.

“Breathe with me buddy, just breathe with me.”

It takes a minute, but Devon eventually does. When Irving breathes out, Devon breathes in. When Irving breathes in, Devon breathes out. Irving doesn’t try to talk to him, and Devon appreciates it. The more Devon feels like himself though, the less he wish he did. The closer to normal he gets, the less he feels. By the time his breathing has steadied out almost completely, he’s crying into Irving’s shoulder. Irving, to his credit, continues to do nothing other than hold him close and allow him that moment to try and figure out what just happened.

He’s not sure how much time has gone by, when he finally pulls away, wiping the tears from his face as he sniffled. Trying to compose himself before realizing that he’s sitting on an elevator, having a breakdown. (Well deserved, but a breakdown, nonetheless.) So instead he sits back and leans against the wall and looks to Irving.

Irving doesn’t look any better than Devon feels, and Devon can’t stop the sardonic chuckle that escapes his lips. Irving shoots him a worried, confused look, so Devon explains. “Conrad’s an asshole.”

Irving laughs too at the words, because Conrad _is_ an asshole. He’s absolutely an asshole but he’s also compassionate, and caring, and willing to do anything for anyone. He’s an amazing human being and he absolutely doesn’t deserve to be taken out by a truck. “That he is.” Irving clears his own throat as he wipes at his eyes. “Why don’t we go find Nic? I can’t imagine she’s handling this very well herself. “

Devon feels mortified as he realizes that he forgot about Nic. “Oh god, you’re right.”

Irving shoots a half hearted smirk before pulling himself, gingerly, to his feet. Once to his feet, he offers Devon a hand and Devon accepts it. Once steady, Irving turns to the doors and pushes the wheelchair out of the doorway and then clicks the ground floor button before turning back to Devon. “Mina’s assisting with the operation, and Conrad trusts her with his life. That’s the only thing that’s convincing me that Conrad will be fine right now.” Irving says, staring straight ahead at the metal doors as they close the men in.

“Yea, she’s the best.” Devon agrees and the pair stay quiet.

They make it back to the ER without further emotional breakdowns, and everything looks normal. Which is so unfair because it’s anything but normal. The nurses and doctors do seem withdrawn, smiles faked, steps heavy, eyes sad.

They don’t see Nic anywhere. Devon tries to page her, with no response. Heavily, Devon realizes that he has patients that he needs to help with, and Irving seems to remember around the same time. Irving looks awkwardly at his watch, before walking towards the doors, making to leave the hospital. “Wait, where are you going?” Devon calls, following the man.

“I’m going outside.”

“Uh, yeah, clearly. But why?” Devon catches up to the man as they walk out the doors, side by side. Irving stops just outside them and turns to Devon, “I need air, because otherwise, I feel like the whole building is sitting on my-oh look, there's Nic.”

Devon turns to look where Irving is pointing and sees the blonde, curled into herself against the pillar. “Oh man,”

Together the men walk to her side, both crouching down to be at her level. Irving goes so far as to place a hand on her shoulder, as he speaks her name. She doesn't respond at first, except for a hitching breath every couple of seconds, but the men wait for her to be ready. A few minutes go by, before she looks up, swollen eyelids and tear streaked cheeks. “Any news?”

Irving shakes his head solemnly. “Nothing except he made it to the OR.”

“Who's operating?”

“Uh, AJ and Mina-”

“Oh thank God.” Nic places a hand on her chest and leans her head against the pillar. Inhaling a deep breath, she picks her head back up. “Has anyone called Marshall?”

“Nic, are you alright?” Devon asks, decidedly ignoring the question.

She doesn't answer immediately and Devon realizes just how dumb the question sounds spoken. “I mean, I wouldn't be, but I just-”

“I'll be a lot better when Conrad makes it through surgery.” She offers before turning back to Irving.

“No, no one's called Marshall, I'm sure Bell will probably handle it,” Irving suggests, before straightening up and offering a hand to Nic, mirroring what he'd just done for Devon. Devon himself ponders for a moment, how Irving is handling it all.

“I'll give him a call,” Nic accepts the hand, and shakily rises to her feet. “I wanna find Conrad's bike.”

Devon doesn't realize it until she's said it, but he wants to see Conrad's bike too. “Take some pictures for me, I gotta do something productive before I start to overthink things too much,” Devon realizes that Irving’s not handling it well at all.

“Keep me posted if you hear anything?” Nic asks, as Irving walks away. Irving stops for a beat before turning back and pulling Nic into a hug. One that she gratefully accepts.

“Of course, same to you?” He asks into her shoulders. Devon feels like he's interrupting a moment, so he wrings his hands and stares down at his shoes while the two talk.

“Of course,” then Irving lets go and retreats back into the building. Nic turns to Devon.

“Let's go find the bike.”

The air is cool, but the rain has finally stopped. The pavement is slick, so they walk carefully, so as not to slip. The sky is still grey, but in patches, you can see the sun's rays falling from the skies.

The bikes exactly where he would leave it at the bike rack. When they get closer to it and begin to inspect, Nic notices a few abnormalities. The back tire is completely bent, and there's some cosmetic damage but besides that, not too much in the way of actual, noticeable damage. The thing that concerned her most, though, was the lock that wasn't in use. Nic can't imagine how awful Conrad must have felt to just forget to lock up his bike.

Knowing the passcode to the lock, she does it herself. She's just finishing up wrapping the chain around the post and bike when footsteps clap against the pavement near them. Nic turns around to see a young kid walking towards them, looking straight at the bike. “Is he alright?” He calls through the air, and Nic feels her heart twinge.

“I don't know, he's in surgery-”

The kids eyes bulge almost out of his head as his steps falter. “Surgery? But he said he was ok. Oh my god, why would he say he was ok if he wasn't?”

Nic doesn’t understand who the kid is, but realizes he was involved in what happened as he gets closer. “Because he's stubborn. Do you know what happened to him?” Nic asks locking the bike and straightening up, Devon standing protectively at her side as the kid stops in front of them.

“Uh, yea, I do.” He clears his throat before telling the story, not leaving out any of the cringeworthy details. It's obvious the kid feels bad about what happened, and Nic feels herself growing angrier with how selfish Conrad's actions were. She knows him well enough, that he probably thought that he was helping everybody involved by not telling anybody he was injured. Now, at the end of the day, the only person who isn't actively worried about Conrad dying is Conrad himself. That's only being because he's under an anesthetic and just overall not in a position to be thinking at all.

When all is said and done, the kid turns to leave before stopping. “Oh yeah, I wanted to return this to Conrad, it must've dropped in my truck when I drove him over here.” He pulls something from his pocket, and once again, Nic's heart hammers as she recognizes the old leather wallet that Conrad's been using as long as she's know him. It's the kind that holds little inside, and only a few dollars edgewise. Maybe a couple of credit cards. She's not sure why he likes it so much, but he's nothing, if not loyal.

“Thank you, Kyle.” Nic whispers, pulling the wallet from his hands and running her hands against the worn leather. As she slides it, as well as her hands, into her shirts pocket.

“It's honestly not a problem, I actually withdrew some money so that he could fix his bike tire and left it in there, as well as my name and number if that's alright.” The kid pauses, and Nic's saddened at how this event will probably haunt the kid. “Could you let me know when, if he makes it?”

Nic's throat closes at the words. ' _if he makes it_.’ What if he doesn't? What if he dies, and all she'll have left of him is a stupid old wallet and a ring that was supposed to represent a future.

Fortunately Devon takes over the conversation from there, as suddenly the worn leather beneath her finger tips begins to feel like the calloused palms of Conrad's own hands. She doesn't realize that the kid had walked away until Devon's hand is on her shoulders. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't even look at her.

Instead he guides her back towards the building.

She wasn't sure where to go, or what to do. Nic supposes that she can go to work but she can’t see herself being attentive to her patients and giving them the care that they deserve. They deserve somebody who can give them their all, and right now Nic can hardly feel her own fingers. She just feels numb.

She realizes the only thing she can really do, is wait.

Nic spends a moment trying to decide where to wait. She debates the lounge, but all she can think of are his final few moments awake. Walking into the room, and seeing him curled in on himself. Still. Silent.

Nic chooses the surgical waiting room. Surrounded by people who are all in the same mindset as herself.

Nic isn’t surprised that Devon joins her. In the months that she and Conrad have come to know him, and after everything the three of them have gone through together, they’ve all formed a friendship. One of those friendships that are forged in fire, and tough to break.

Of course, it’s easy for a friendship to end if one of them dies. She ponders that thought, as she enters the waiting room. She takes a seat as she wonders if a friendship ends with death. Like any relationship, in order for it to work, there has to be two parts, at least. If one is gone…

She doesn’t know what she’ll do if Conrad dies. She’s never loved someone like she loves him. He has his shortcomings. He’s short tempered, impulsive, and makes some really bad decisions. But he loves with every ounce of his being. He loves, and cares and will fight until there is nothing left of himself. All for people he hardly knows. For Nic, he’s willing to change his entire self, and he’s trying.

Nic loves him.

She seats herself on one of the cushioned benches, and prepares herself for the wait, and Devon seats himself beside her. He sprawls his legs out in front of him while she props her elbows on her knees. She pulls her phone out of her pocket with a heavy hand and scrolls through her contacts, coming up on her ‘in case of emergency’ list.

Conrad had hated that she had demanded that she get his father's number, but she knew that if a situation like this were ever to arise, Marshall would want to know. Now, she was glad that she had stood by that mentality as she scrolled to his name and clicked on the contact.

Nic spends another moment debating whether to call or text him, but her instinct to talk to him wins out and she presses call.

Marshall answers after two rings. “This is Marshall Winthrop.”

Nic clears her throat, and stands, realizing that she doesn’t want the entire waiting room filled with anxious loved ones to listen in on her conversation. “Marshall, it’s Nurse Nevins at Chastain.”

“I know who you are, miss Nevins. Conrad speaks highly of you. What can I do for you?” His father sounds outwardly suspicious, and she doesn’t blame him. You don’t just get a call from your ‘sort-of estranged’ sons girlfriend unless something is very wrong. Nic walks away from the room and towards a hallway that can offer her more privacy.

“It’s Conrad.”

“What’s wrong?” Marshall asks, palpable concern suddenly coating his words. Her own words feel shaky, and foreign as they fall from her mouth.

“He’s in surgery,” she swallows hard, trying to force the words from her mouth. Heavy breathing on the other end of the phone distracts her for a moment before she unsuccessfully tries to finish. “He was in an accident earlier-”

“How bad is it?” Marshall asks, the air moving in her ear helps her realize that he’s moving around, wherever he is.

“It’s bad, he barely made it into surgery.”

“Oh god. I’ll-” all is silent suddenly on the other end of the call, and Nic thinks that the man hung up, until he exhales deeply and continues. “I’ll be there in under an hour, will you keep me posted on his condition?” Marshall asks. She feels bad for the man. A son that he spent years apart from, and now that he’s back in his life, he could be torn from him again? Irreparably? It was like a Shakespearean play.

“Of course.” She feels tears in her eyes, that she’s not really sure ever left to begin with. She tries to say something else, anything else to comfort the man, but she realizes that she can’t say anything. Once again she’s frozen as she realizes the only person who could comfort her right now, is the reason she needs comforting.

“Nic, my son - Conrad is strong.” He sighs heavily into mouthpiece.

“I love him.” She cries mournfully. It hurts so much to say the words. There's a part of her that knows that Conrad knows. She’s told him, and he’s said it back.

As if reading her mind, “He knows that, and he loves you too. I know that as a fact. I’m getting a car now, I’ll see you soon.” She nods, as if he could see her. “Thank you for letting me know, Nic.”

He hangs up, but she can’t move. She’s stuck, like her feet are glued to the floor. She looks over to the entrance of the hall, where Devon waits for her, and she’s so grateful for him. As if sensing that she needs someone’s help, he walks towards her and pulls her into another hug, and she can feel herself breaking down - again.

“I can’t lose him.” She sobs into Devons shoulder, clutching at the fabric on his back. “I love him.”

“I know, and he knows. He can live without a spleen, and he’ll be fine.” He sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself.

“Have you ever seen the person that you would die for, lying in front of you-”

“You can’t think about that, Nic. It’s only going to hurt.”

“Everytime I close my eyes, it’s all I can see.”

Devon’s silent for a minute as he continues to rub circles on her back, doing his best to calm the nurse. “Me too Nic, me too.”

* * *

 

Marshall arrives in under thirty minutes, and Nic has to wonder what kind of laws he broke to get there so quickly. _With that much money, does it really matter?_

Even better, he arrives with coffee. Two cups, but he lays his eyes on Devon and immediately offers him his own cup. “I didn’t know how you guys drank it, so I just added a lot of cream and sugar.”

Nic is appreciative as she accepts the large cup, and takes a tentative sip.

It’s sweet in a bitter way. “Thank you,” she mutters as she clutches it tightly between her fingers.

* * *

 

An hour goes by, and the cup slowly empties as she takes sip after sip. She knows that the caffeine won’t help her jitters and uneasiness, but she finds the taste to be soothing. Familiar.

Nothing about this whole situation was familiar. She spends days at a time walking these halls, but she realizes that she doesn’t ever sit in the chairs and pray for someone hidden behind walls.

Devon leaves for a while but Marshall remains committed to the chair at her side. He’s nearly silent, the only noises she hears from the man are the long exhales that he breathes every few minutes. A sigh that seems to carry more emotions than she’s even witnessed the man exhibiting. She can’t imagine how he’s feeling, his only child behind walls and fighting for his life.

She imagines it might be similar to how she felt when she lost her own unborn child. Which is pretty similar to how she feels about the man that she loves hanging on by a fine thread. She rubs a hand across her face, scratching at her nose and rubbing at her closed eyelids.

She drops her hand and is abruptly reminded of the wallet that sits in her pocket as her hand drops to it. She pulls the worn leather out and flips it open, and smiles wearily down at the ID photo that smiles back up at her. His hair an uncontrollable mess but his eyes twinkling like he has his own solar system within his eyes.

The wallet itself is not thick, he doesn’t carry more than ten dollars on him at any given time, and that's only so he can use the vending machines without having to worry about losing his debit card. His debit card sits in the wallet, as does his credit card, his insurance card, his military ID, and a few other cards that Nic recognizes. She opens the cash portion and sighs as she sees two or three photos as well as the cash and the slip of paper Kyle put in there. She spots his social security card and rolls her eyes as she thinks of all the times that she’s told him that he shouldn’t be carrying it around. Once he tried to tell her that he wouldn’t remember it if he didn’t have it, but Nic is very aware of just how intelligent he is, and how well his brain works with numbers. She doesn’t know the real reason why it’s in there though, he’s never told her the same thing twice.

She pulls out the photos and the social security card. The first photo is a young girl who Nic can immediately identify as Annabeth, the sweet girl that Conrad had never forgiven himself for her death. The next photo is of Nic and Conrad, nestled together and drinking their respective warm drinks. The third photo catches her breath as she realizes that it's the only sonogram that she ever took home. The ability to speak catches in her throat as she rubs at the worn photo. Nic never realized that he carried this around with him, and learning of it only seems to tear at her soul. In the way that she is suddenly scared that she will never get to thank him for being as incredible as he is.

She stuffs the photos back into the wallet and turns to Marshall, holding the remaining card between her finger tips, “Do you know why he carries this around with him?”

Marshall is startled from his thoughts but quickly recovers as he investigates the slip in her hand. “What is that?”

“His social security card.” Nic holds it out to the older man, allowing him to pull it from her fingers and investigate the slip of paper. Marshall remains silent for a few moments before realization sets in his eyes.

“It’s not his. It’s his mothers.” Marshall seems shocked by his words, and the same feeling rises within Nic.

“His mothers? Are you sure?”

Marshall rubs at his own face, caressing the aged paper in his other hand gingerly, “Yea, I can remember Conrad's social pretty well. Six of the numbers are the same as mine.” Marshall hands the slip back to Nic, and drops his own hand and allows himself to slouch in the chair. “Conrad and his mother were very close.”

“He’s told me,” Nic recalls.

“He’s a lot like her,” Marshall reminisces, looking straight ahead, across the floor. At nothing.

Nic looks down at the wallet in her hand, the leather warm in her hands. “Well, he’s a lot like you too.” She almost doesn’t think he’s heard her. They spend a few moments in silence before Marshall’s hand rests itself on hers, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Thank you, Nic.”

* * *

 

Devon ended up bringing them the news.

“Guys, he’s out of surgery!” He called out, running back into their views. Nic and Marshall rose to meet him as Devon stopped in front of them.

“How’d it go?”

“It went well, they reinflated his lung, inserted a chest tube, and were able to repair the damage to the spleen and the artery. Mina’s as optimistic as she gets.” Nic heaved a sigh of relief as Marshall placed his arm around her shoulders and enveloped her into a hug. She felt like she was about to melt as she felt some of the tension ease away. She could feel Marshalls own body relaxing. They embraced each other for a moment before Marshall pulled away.

“Can we see him?”

Devon smiled carefully, as if trying to find the words that would hurt the least. “Yea, but I need to warn you guys. He’s up in the ICU.”

* * *

 

Mina greeted them at the door, while AJ sat on a stool beside Conrad's bed. “You all realize that there should only be two guests in here at any given time?” AJ mocked, halfheartedly, knowing that the rules were only a formality with this group.

“How is he?” Nic asked, as Mina squeezed her shoulder gently in solidarity.

“The surgery went fine, though he bled a lot. We had to replace three pints of blood before we could get everything stitched close. He still has all of his organs inside of him and everything will heal with time. We’re keeping him on the vent to give his body a bit of time to heal.” AJ answered eloquently as he stood and gestured for Nic to take his place. She did so without question as Marshall stood beside her. The three doctors all stood by Conrad’s other side.

Nic’s eyes glanced over Conrad's still form, from his head to his toes. He was pale but it came with the territory. His hair, normally unruly was now dull and flat against his head. There was a small bandage on his chin where earlier it had been split open. His chest was mostly covered. The bandage holding the chest tube in place was blatant, as was the bruising from his broken ribs that peeked out from under the bandages that wrapped around his chest keeping his ribs in place. The third bandage rested on his midsection, keeping AJ and Mina’s handywork on the inside of his body. There were bandages running up his arms as well, covering what had previously been raw and bloody arms. A blanket was pulled up to his hips and it prevented her from assessing him further.  

Nic tried her best to ignore the tube that protruded from his mouth, and the strap holding it in place. But when she looked back at his face, it was the hardest thing to ignore as mechanical breaths rose and fell. She cleared her throat, before placing a hand on his head, brushing the hair back soothingly, the way that she knew that he loved. “Is he-” she swallowed hard, knowing that he was better than he was last time she had seen him.

“We do have him sedated, but once we’ve got those tubes removed, he’ll be up and riding circles around us all.” AJ answered, attempting to reassure. The group of individuals standing around him were some of the only friends he had. Nic placed her hand on Conrad’s and squeezed it, expecting a lack of response. “Ideally, he’ll be awake by tomorrow night though, and the ventilator will be a thing of the past.”

She drew in a long breath before bowing her head. Allowing the feeling of warm skin beneath her fingertips comfort her. Marshall remained silent beside her, a hand on Conrads leg. “Can I, uh, have a moment?” Nic asked quietly, clearing her throat again as emotions began to swirl in her head.

“Absolutely,” Mina soothed from across the bed. Nic glanced up as she watched the doctors leave the room, while Marshall remained at her side.

“I’ll leave you two be. I’ll be right outside.” Marshall said, rubbing Nic’s back again before rounding the other side of bed. He leaned down so that his lips were right against Conrad’s ear and placed his own hand on Conrad’s head. “You are so strong,” for a moment he doesn’t speak as he swallows hard. “I love you, son.” Marshall finishes, leaving a gentle kiss on Conrad’s brow before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Nic released a long breath before pursing her lips. She clenched her eyes shut as she tried to stop the tears, her breaths becoming hitched as sobs begin to wrack her chest.  “I love you,” she cried, laying her head on his chest. She allowed a few tears to roll down her face and land on the bandages on Conrad’s chest, before she wiped them away. “You scared me, and if I had lost you I would never forgive you for not getting help sooner.”

She continued to brush his hair until her tears finally ceased, Conrad never once acknowledging her presence.     

* * *

 

“Listen, if you get me some real food, I’ll pay you twenty percent-”

“Conrad Hawkins!” Nic chastised as she walked into the hospital room, holding a tray of food from downstairs in her hands. She glared at the man sitting upright in the bed, before turning her glare to Irving. “Stop giving him bad ideas. He had enough of those on his own.”

“I am an honest man.” Irving proclaimed as Conrad threw Irving a betrayed look. “I would never suggest that a patient deviate from doctors orders.”

“I see how it is, you traitor,” Conrad jokingly accused, as Nic dropped the tray of food on the tray in front of Conrad. Who in turn looked at it in disgust.

Most tubes were removed at this point, aside from an IV continuing to feed him fluids. His voice was still raw from the ventilator, and he still looked like he’d been hit by a train. His bruises were still angry and blue and purple, and some more had even popped up all over his back and sides. He also slouched with a tiredness that he didn’t really show all too often. Conrad’s been napping a lot, only awake for a couple hours at a time once he was weaned off the sedation.

They were in a regular room, despite Marshall offering to pay for a VIP suite. Conrad hated the idea and made sure everyone knew it too.

He wouldn’t say it like the deep lines around his eyes did, but he was still in a lot of pain. He had demanded he be weaned off everything because he hated feeling like he wasn’t in control. Instead, he spent every waking moment with his senses flooded with the pain he refused to get help with. He’s under the impression that if he ignored the pain, it’ll disappear soon enough.

Now there he was, days away from being discharged and trying to work his way around every loophole he could find.

Irving bowed mockingly as he shuffled from the room, leaving Conrad and Nic. Conrad smiled up at her meekly. “Hi.”

Nic raised an eyebrow before allowing her own smile to peek out. “Hi. How are you feeling?” She seated herself beside the bed and Conrad reached for her hand almost instantly. She gave it to him, and he traced circles in her palm with the pad of his thumb. She cherished the touch more than she ever had before.

He concentrated on their extremities as he stiffly settled against the head of the bed. “I’m feeling better. I even pissed in a toilet today.”

“How much pain are you still feeling?” Nic further questioned.

“Like a four?” Conrad said, smirking up at her before resting his head against the pillow.

“So an eight,” Nic corrected as she leaned forward, brushing her hand through his hair. Relishing in the way Conrad pushed his head against her hand and closed his eyes under the ministrations.

“I’m just ready to go home.” Conrad murmured, as he began his descent into the throes of sleep. “Dad was here for a while again today.” Nic smiled warmly, knowing that Marshall had been here. Between the two of them, an unspoken pact to not leave Conrad alone had been forged.

“That’s good. You both seem to be getting along well,” Nic mused.

“Well, I guess a near,” a yawn interrupts his words, “-death experience brings out the best in people.”

“I think you may be right, but don’t throw this away.” Nic suggested, as the circles on her hand begins to slow to a stop.

“I love you.” The words escape his lips on a breath and his breathing begins to even out.

Nic continues to run her hands through her hair, as she mentally notes that he’s not eating anything. She’ll probably bring him a salad from his favorite place down the street once he wakes up.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - Thanks for being here, and if you enjoyed it, leave me a review and tell me what you thought.  
> ~Tay~

**Author's Note:**

> So, whatd'ya think? Horrible? Good? Great? Feel free to drop a line and let me know!
> 
> Hopefully this fandom will kick off and I'll be able to witness a bunch of great minds come together soon!
> 
> Thanks guys! 
> 
> Dueces!


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